Personal – Gordon Gregory's blog

George speaks – 2 The farmer as writer.

The story so far: George Gregory (1879-1940) left behind a typed record of much of his personal, family and community history. It is not known how many pages in all were written, but just over 100 came to light among the papers of one of his seven grandchildren. Sadly, even this collection is incomplete, with some missing from the beginning of the story and the set ending abruptly halfway through the description of a tragic matter concerning his third son.

The manuscript is more than George’s autobiography. It is a memoir of his own life plus reflections and recollections of the lives of those who came before him and were around him. He tells what he knew of his father and mother and the life they had. So, although George himself lived from 1879 to 1940, he gives insights into the period from 1850 to 1919.

Sadly there is nothing in the found document for the period after 1919. It is impossible to know whether tales from 1919 to 1940 were yet to be written by George or whether they have been lost.

In the pages found it is George’s voice telling the story of George’s immediate family as he remembered it. It is not clear who was doing the typing. Did George’s household have a typewriter? Was he a capable typist? Or did he dictate it to Ilott, his wife, or to Richard, his eldest son? Richard certainly had literary and poetic capability and interest, having had one or more of his short stories broadcast on the BBC.

It is may be fanciful to think that after dinner each evening for a period Ilott and George would settle down to another page or two of the story. Ilott might remind him of things yet to be covered. His wife’s first name is sometimes spelt ‘Illott’ and there are just a few typographical errors caused by homophones, such as ‘Brightleigh’ for ‘Brightley’, all of which suggest that a copy typist was working from an audio source – a tape recorder. But in 1934?

Accompanying the manuscript is a single page that might be described as an aide memoire for George’s book. It is a list of the events, anecdotes and characters that someone thought could or should be mentioned.

George and Ilott’s third son, Kenneth, was born in 1912. At one point the narrative reads: “Looking back these 15 years, I realise that if he had lived life would have been different. He would have been twenty two now.” This places the creation of the manuscript in 1934.

The narrative does not follow a strict chronological line but the main stages of George’s life are revealed in due order. First he describes the situation of his father and uncle and the process by which the former, the younger of the two, came to have his own small farm and flour mill. There are short sections dealing with George’s teenage years, during which his brother Arch was his chief companion and playmate, and then his experience on the rugby field and in the Boer War.

There follow major sections on his working life with his father at the mill and, most richly, his courting of Ilott, his wife-to-be. It is in this section that George’s writing reaches a glorious descriptive pitch – in places more poetry than prose. The events are set in the Exmoor region, on the border between Somerset and Devon – an area that is new to George and which he comes to love very dearly.

The descriptive authority and confidence of much of George’s writing in these necessarily ‘romantic’ episodes is what captures the imagination and interest. How is it that a full-time farmer in an isolated part of the UK’s West Country came to possess the style, the observational acuity, vocabulary and literary tricks (metaphor, simile) to produce such material? What was the process through which George developed the confidence to produce written work that is consciously designed as art rather than mere reportage?

Whatever its provenance, West Country Tales is a true delight and an authentic and valuable record of rural social history in the south-west of England from 1870 to the end of the First World War.

‘George speaks’ – 1

In July 2023 I discovered, in a box of papers in my study, a large manila envelope. It was addressed to me, in a hand I did not know, at Sutton Bonington, where I was between 1968 and 1971.

In the envelope was a manuscript. It has become the focus of my time in the study and the main reason for being unblogged.

It is about 120 pages of typed material on onion skin paper. It is George Gregory, Tauri’s great-grandfather, speaking from the grave which is my study.

That is even more telling now that social media records everything, with none of it being entirely lost to the public record.

A quick glance at the manuscript revealed the treasure that it is. It is essentially George’s autobiography, from 1879 to 1940. Much of the material is about the characters in his family and those with whom they lived, worked and socialised. He describes the experience of going to the Boer War and witnessing Queen Victoria’s funeral in London. On one of several occasions when the author reflects on the cruelty of Nature relative to that of children, he describes his horror on finding fly-blown sheep and with the use of a certain kind of rabbit trap.

The narrative is a treasuretrove of insights into the way isolated rural communities were made up and maintained in the hundred years from 1850 to 1950. He describes in great detail the countryside of Exmoor and North Somerset (around Lynton and Minehead) and the deep respect and love he has for it. His descriptions of the combes, the sea and the built infrastructure of roads and farms are both informative and richly poetic. They are the context within which he courts his wife and gets to know her family.

Then the reader finds him espousing progressive views on (to mention just two) sex education in schools and the way poor people are treated in the workhouses. He – a farmer, not a lawyer – writes of the need for families to share deer meat ‘under the rose’.

It was hard to reconcile the contents and style of the document (described at one place by its author as “a book”) with my father’s father. Of grandfather George I could bring to mind just a single image and nothing more of fact than that he was a farmer near Exmoor, on the border between Somerset and Devon.

The find is exciting and it is reprehensible to have kept it from the family and other public gaze for so long. I feel a responsibility to honour the piece and the man who wrote it.

Beyond that, nothing is yet clear about what can or should be done with it. But it’s taking up a lot of time.

repurpose/ˌriːˈpəːpəs/

verb

adapt for use in a different purpose.

I could not conceive of letting it go to the tip or even to the recycling shed.

Our children have a special relationship with The Family Bed.

Our French polisher friend agreed that it was very good piece – English oak, probably over a hundred years old – with elegant carving at the centre of head- and tail-board.

But there is little demand for such items. It was too big for the modern market and style; the springs sagging helplessly (the mattress stiffened with large sheets of plywood underneath). And it was too high for many, especially young ‘uns.

I thought I’d lost it. But thanks to our friend Bill, it was repurposed in time for Christmas 2023.

My special thanks to Bill for the vision, ingenuity and industry – and to anyone else at the men’s shed in Hughes who helped him. For it certainly makes a lekker [lek-uh] two-person seat.

The Referendum on The Voice was good news

The orgy of self-flagellation relating to the result of the Referendum on The Voice is surely not necessary. Neither is it productive.

Little of importance in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander affairs has changed because of the result of the Referendum. But its existence has resulted in change which, on balance, is positive in terms of the most important outcome: improvement and catch-up of the health and wellbeing of First Nations Peoples.

The one exception – the saddest thing about the result – is the effect it has had on the reputation and morale of the many Indigenous leaders who put heart and soul into the Yes campaign.

Anyone who cares about the health and wellbeing of Australia’s First Peoples knows what the most important issues are. Put simply they add up to one thing: to challenge the status quo and close the gap in wellbeing between them and non-Indigenous Australians.

In working on this there are many important matters to be considered. They are complex – which is one of the reasons why we have so far failed as a nation in the challenge.

For instance, it has been agreed over and over again that closing the gap requires local participation and local ownership of some of the measures to be put in place. But what is the best way for local action by local people to be coupled with transparency and accountability for the use of national public funds?

Nothing frustrates local leaders and professionals more than a plethora of standardised questionnaires and forms to be filled out in the name of accountability and ‘program evaluation’.

It is agreed that the so-called ‘social determinants of health’ are critical: this includes good housing, accessible fresh food and water, early childhood education, and access to meaningful employment. If services in areas of such fundamental importance were woefully inadequate in Melbourne or Sydney there would be notice and action in five minutes.

But given the tangled web of governmental responsibility for such issues, which agency, which Minister and which funding stream should take the lead on these determinants for Indigenous people and communities?

Can Indigenous leaders and activists set aside differences, such as about the order in which the three elements of the Statement from the Heart (Voice, Treaty, Truth) are prosecuted? Can they agree that closing the gap is the most urgent challenge, and work together on it?

A number of things have happened as a result of the Referendum, by accident or design, to enhance the prospects of finding answers to these questions. We need to maintain the momentum generated by the existence of the referendum, rather than being distracted by its result.

This momentum is one of the best things that investment in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander wellbeing currently has going for it. But for the momentum to last it needs to be fostered, rehearsed and regularly aired.

Every time we hear the Treasurer talk of fiscal challenges we are reminded of the congested queue of demands for government support.

It is said that one of the reasons for the lack of support for the Yes case was that many non-Indigenous people do not appreciate the extent of the disadvantage.

The majority of Australians do not live and work among Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. Many have no Indigenous friends or contacts. This means they lack personal or lived experience of the disadvantages experienced by Indigenous people.

As a result of the Referendum having taken place, there must now be greater awareness of the reality of the situation.

This will reduce the political risks of investing resources in programs differentially targeted at lifestyle deficits experienced by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.

As a result of the Referendum, leadership of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander community has become better known. New leaders have joined the group. There will be some generational change.

Hopefully the current excitement about analyses of the yes and no campaigns will soon pass, once it is accepted that comparing activities in a Referendum with those of an election campaign is like taste-testing chalk and cheese.

It must be said, however, that the Referendum has provided more grist for the mill of political scientists and the like to use in their work to analyse, understand and make use of the stark differences between wealthy electorates and those that are less well-off, and between rural and metropolitan areas.

Now, with greater focus and legitimacy, it’s back to the drawing board to work on an issue that still bedevils Australia and its international reputation.

Indigenous puzzles: John Tranter explains

The late John Tranter

The big picture

In 1987, in a fascinating and most useful talk on ABC radio, John Tranter said: “From the 1960s, for a mixture of reasons, Aborigines have been more publicly visible than in earlier times. They have been subjects of greater controversy, and they have been participants in controversy as never before.”

Tranter did us all a great service by analysing in considerable detail the background for these developments. His piece is more relevant now than ever before and, potentially, more useful than the current agonies surrounding the fate of the proposal for a Voice

John Tranter and his work were unknown to me until I came across a transcript of the episode of Helicon, ABC radio’s national arts program, broadcast on 26 January 1987.

Tranter died on 21 April 2023. I only wish I had had the chance to thank him for a wonderful piece dealing so clearly with many aspects of policies in Australia relating to its Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. Over thirty six years ago Tranter was able to provide a most readable summary and analysis, with numerous historical facts and opinions, of issues that still trouble us greatly today.

John Tranter produced Helicon in 1987-1988. Later in his work for the ABC, and with others, he devised the radio program Books and Writing. He was also the founding editor and publisher of Jacket, an award-winning internet literary magazine.

A long-term view

The subject piece is entitled From 1788 to 1988: Visions of Australian History. I came across it in a hard copy that does not credit an author. It is dated January 1987. Given the dates of his tenure at Helicon, what I have already discovered of the breadth of his study and the style of his writing, I have assumed that John Tranter was its sole or main author.

If this assumption is false I sincerely hope that the other people involved will forgive me. My purpose is to give greater publicity and notice to the clearest of expositions of matters even more contested today, in 2023, than they were in 1987.

The piece is marvelous in the breadth of its coverage, in many senses prescient, and so clearly written. It is erudite but still accessible.

It pleases me to know that it is (back?) in the public domain, albeit on a very modest platform. My hope is that John Tranter would find my motives and intentions to be entirely worthy.

I beg you to read the article full. If it means to you a fraction of what it already means to me, it will be well worth your time.

The complete transcript is here as a PDF.

https://tinyurl.com/y67s9upn

“Why am I being offered more Aboriginal history with the milk then I was given in the whole of my schooldays?”

Words spoken at ceremony to commit the body of John Kerin, Sat. 15 April 2023.

JK was a Big Man.

He had a Big Life.

And through that life he had an enormous impact on his family, his friends, and those who worked with him.

That classification is too simple.

For through his personality and behaviours, JK made his staffers feel like family. And many staffers became close friends.

As well as being family, June could justifiably claim to be JK’s intellectual friend and moderator. And when working with JK on his magnum opus, June was in the position of a good staffer.

As a Minister there was a fourth class of person whose life intersected with JK’s: those who were affected by the decisions he led. He never forgot them or took them for granted.

His political work was undertaken within two contexts. One was a search for the national interest. The other was the effect the work he was leading would have on the lives of people and communities.

In today’s parlance JK practised The Politics of Nice. The Politics of Common Sense. The Politics of Truth and Proven Fact.

Not for him the politics of ideology, faction, vested interest or personal gain.

Proven Fact was a Holy Grail for JK. He said that once he had read philosophy he began to doubt everything.

The very title of his great volume, The Way I Saw It; The Way It Was, betrays his modest acceptance that the way he saw it may not have reflected the way it actually was.

He never gave up the pleasure of reading, thinking and talking about what might and might not be true.

We should all read or re-read that great written achievement of his.[i]

Working with JK was a privilege. It was rewarding. It was often good fun.

His work as Minister for Primary Industries and the Bush made a significant contribution to the stability and success of the Hawke-Keating governments. Farmers, fishers and foresters, researchers and scientists, his Parliamentary colleagues and the interested public soon had faith in JK’s management of the industries and the people of rural areas.

More should be made of his legacy in this regard.

He was seen as a safe pair of hands – and what hands they were!

All of us here have been greatly affected by your work.

We will always be grateful for the unique contribution you made to our lives.

We are thankful for the inspiration and leadership you provided us and so many others.

And we will never forget you.

ⁱ The way I saw it; the way it was – the making of national agricultural and natural resource management policy, John C. Kerin, Analysis & Policy Observatory, 2017.

John Kerin – a personal reflection

Working on the Ministerial staff of John Kerin was a privilege. He rarely gave orders to his staffers. Instead, he annotated Ministerial documents, uttered brief comments and requests, and made known his preferences for next-stage documents through what he heard and said in the thousands of meetings he held.

The Departments for which he was responsible, whether Primary Industries, Primary Industries and Energy, the Treasury, Transport and Communications or Trade and Overseas Development, all served him well. Their officers knew him; they grew to like him. They soon learned to trust him and to respect his working ways. Departmental officers were very rarely kept waiting for the return of Ministerial documents from his office: he liked to get through the paperwork.

Part of the duty of his Ministerial staffers was to sustain and augment this mutual respect between Minister and public service. The staffer’s capacity to hide behind the Minister’s wishes was treated with respect when dealing with departmental staff.

John Kerin undertook an enormous amount of official travel, mainly in Australia but also overseas as required. He had an encyclopaedic knowledge of places, people and industries in regional and remote areas. In his travels he was always willing to do the work necessary for success, always cheerful. And he took those rural insights to the metropolitan places to which he went.

He was a living bridge between the people of rural industries and ‘members of the Board’.

As a member of his staff, one’s hope was to ensure that he was informed of all relevant information needed to make a decision in the national interest. He was pleased to be an economist and proud to have become Australia’s number one in that profession. But he had no pleasure in knowing that so many members of the profession he joined had blind faith in small government and market forces.

For John Kerin the national interest was something real – almost tangible – albeit complex in terms of the factors determining what it looked like. When faced with hard decisions the national interest was in the room, openly discussed, which meant seeing through the self-interest of powerful people and vested interests.

He did not trust privatisation, deregulation and the outsourcing of public services. He was always opposed to the trickle-down thesis, including the notion of the trickle-down benefits of tax cuts.

By staying on his staff for over seven years I was able to provide him with some continuity. This was especially useful towards the end when the Ministerial road became bumpier. A Minister with a new portfolio has plenty to worry about without the challenge of finding suitable staff.

When working with him almost everyone with whom I came into contact had more technical nous than me, more intellectual capacity, and more commercial experience.

But they did not have the Ministerial confidence and trust given to a loyal retainer.

I think I was able to provide what John Kerin needed on the personal (and personable) front – as a friend who was always around but did not interfere nor expect too much. I helped to satisfy his need for friendship and civility in his workplace. And it helped that there was a shared sense of empathy and fairness for those affected by decisions made.

The high-level technical support required by a Minister in economics, production, commerce, management and governance could be provided by others who would come and go.

In a well-functioning Minister’s office there also needs to be someone with sufficient patience to deal with people who will not go away: those bearing gifts, the eccentric and the confused. I was that person who, by dealing in a kindly fashion with such ‘enthusiasts’, could help maintain the good reputation of the Minister.

Just once in my seven years with him John gave me a very direct order. We were in the Russian Far East talking about trade relationships. Kerin was being welcomed by means of a rollicking dinner which, if I recall correctly, featured vodka and dancing of a traditional late-night-folk variety.

Towards the end of the evening some of the local staff sang a Russian song in Kerin’s honour. He and June were momentarily panicked: how could we possibly reciprocate and maintain our delegation’s good face? He ordered me to sing Travelling down the Castlereagh – which I did.

Like everything else one did with John Kerin, it was professionally appropriate for its time and place but it was also fun. Given his absolute detestation of war, drinking and dancing in the Russian Far East would now seem both unlikely and inappropriate. But as a self-confessed humanist by nature, John Kerin would, I’m sure, ask us to distinguish between the Russian people on the one hand and their leaders on the other.

Rest in peace John.

Parkinson’s brings out the best – in other people.

Bill is 81 years old. He lives in Marrickville, New South Wales. He has been waiting nine months for an appointment with a specialist to see what can be done about his back. He believes the best way forward will be to fuse three vertebrae low down in his spine.

It may have been the tapping of his stick on the pavement that alerted me to his presence behind. The two shopping bags I had were sufficiently laden for me to be pleased to set them down for a rest, and there could be no better excuse than to let someone by.

“Hello there! How you goin’?“

Although his family settled in Preston, Lancashire, when he was just 13, Bill still has a light but delightful Northern Ireland accent.

He looked down with something like suspicion on my two shiny, swollen shopping bags now settled on the ground.

“How far d’you have to go? I saw you gettin’ along. I’ve got this trolley bag and we could put one of yours on it. Which way you going?”

I now saw that Bill‘s leash finished not with a dog but with a well-used canvas bag on two wheels. It was barely half full and before the future geographic situation relating to himself and me had been clarified, he had placed one of my bags half in and half on top of his two-wheeler.

He takes medication to improve his lung function and uses oxygen on an as-needs basis. He has had multiple surgeries and cancer. He has a device at home which gives some relief from the pain caused by scar tissue in his back. (I accepted Bill’s invitation to undertake a brief palpation.)

Clarification of how long it might be before we would need to part company was proving difficult. Bill’s hearing, like his back, would benefit from some repair and modification. And these days my voice is clumsily and faintly produced, and my brain’s executive function is unreliable – two of the less obvious manifestations of Parkinson’s.

Nevertheless we made confident if slow progress along the pavement, while attempting to predict our conjoined spatial future. I could not remember the name of the street on which my daughter lives, and Bill referred to streets and roundabouts beyond my ken and yet to appear before us. There was some talk of a golf course which might still have been a fair way off.

Bill and his brother served in the Royal Inniskilling Dragoons, Bill for six years. Serving later in the same Company, a nephew had to make an early incursion on the Falkland Islands and as a result still has PTSD.

When we reach the head of the street I recognise as being the one on which my destination lies, Bill indicates that his street is down the other branch before us. But do you think I could persuade him to give me back my bag for the suburban block-and-a-half which I promised was all there was before me? He said if he came my way he could cut across down another street back to his place.

Bill has clearly made this journey many times before. School was just out and he (and I) stepped aside to let parents and youngsters, unencumbered by shopping bags and considerable bodily wear-and-tear, pass easily between us. A gentleman sun bathing on his verandah, shirt off, called out a cheery hello to Bill which was cheerily reciprocated.

At this time I was thinking of recompense, perhaps in the form of a grateful postcard from Canberra. (I wonder if Bill has been round Parliament House?)But try as I may he would not reveal an address, only a name.

He is Bill Hutchinson.

As we parted I fell to wondering how many of Bill’s shopping trips involve helping people down the street with his trusty ‘bag on wheels’. And there is a different sort of wonder as well: about the kindness of Man.

Quiz: Word-Play alphabet

Here is a quiz for anyone to try, featuring puns and homophones – and with prizes to be won.

Most of us are familiar with children’s alphabet books of the “A for Apple, B for Bed, C for Cat” kind.

Then there are adult versions, such as the sailor’s alphabet. Fairport Convention’s version includes some items familiar only to those who have experienced life under sail. They include Davits, Eyebolts, the Knighthead and Vangs.

Since I was a child I have carried with me the fragments of what might be called a humorous word-play alphabet. Where it came from is a mystery. I long assumed that it came from my father who was not a great wordsmith but was not averse to a joke at the dinner table. But my older brothers report no such memories of our father. In fact they claim to have no recollection of such an alphabet at all. Perhaps it came from some music hall act or a book I read.

Let’s call it the Word-Play alphabet. I will give you three of the elements to illustrate the nature of its contents. Then you can see how many of the full set of 26 you can get. I have created some ‘new’ elements to fill the gaps in the version that has long been lurking in my recall. In guessing the answers it will help if you remember that, whatever its unremembered source, some of the content reflects people or events that were contemporary in the 1950s (ie are now dated).

Examples from the Word-Play alphabet:

A for Gardner.

C for Highlanders.

I for Novello.

Explication of examples:

Ava Gardner was a screen actor and singer. She signed with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1941. Active 1941-1986. Died 1990. Spouse: Mickey Rooney.

The Seaforth Highlanders was a famous line infantry regiment of the British Army, mainly associated with large areas of the northern Highlands of Scotland.

Ivor Novello, 1893-1951, was a Welsh composer and actor who became one of the most popular British entertainers of the first half of the 20th century

_______________________________________________

Your name: ______________________________ Record your answers on this page and email it to me. Respondents with the highest score will receive free access to my blog.

The full Word Play alphabet will be published in a separate document posted to this site.

There are no ‘correct’ answers. Answers which match the list to be published plus any others that are amusing and meet the spirit of the quiz will all score a point.

A for Gardner

B for

C for Highlanders

D for

E for

F for

G for

H for

I for Novello

J for

K for

L for

M for

N for

O for

P for

Q for

R for

S for

T for

U for

V for

W for

X for

Y for

Z for

email: gg@gordongregory.net

Jacki Howe

Jacki and Tony in the pavilion at Kentisbeare Cricket Club (August 2011)

Jacki Howe died this week at home in Kentisbeare, South Devon. She was the bubbliest, funniest, most caring and thoughtful friend in the world.

She and Tony lived until recently in the Mill House – beautifully converted from a working mill to a delightful home which doubled as a ‘commodious’ bed-and-breakfast venue.

Its size was one of the reasons why, when I once rang her in the middle of the night, Pella on tenterhooks and our hire car having been vandalised, I was confident there would be room for us to stay. The other reason for my confidence was that Tony and Jacki had been my very close friends since 1960-something. I was Best Man at their wedding in 1970.

Jacki set very high standards in civility, inter-personal warmth and a professional’s attention to detail. She had a taste for fine workmanship, whether expressed in interior design, household furnishing, food, collectables, or flowers and gardens. She loved her own garden which, at all times of the year, seemed to be colourful and immaculate.

She was one of those hosts who would unfailingly include a bedside posy or two in the room allocated to a visitor.

When Jacki and Tony moved from the Mill House to the smaller place up the hill, their new home soon displayed all the style and taste for which they were known. Among other things, the move meant that Jacki had more time for her shop in Exmouth which gave public and commercial expression to some of her sensibilities.

With her helping hand Alison Ware in the treasure trove in Exmouth

Jacki and Tony provided the centrepiece or fulcrum for a Gregory-family-and-friends reunion in 2011, a highlight of which was an international cricket challenge held at the Kentisbeare Cricket Club.

The challenge match pitted a UK family side against one from the Southern Hemisphere (Australia and Hong Kong).

Fiona being decisive, imperious – and observed by father and husband.

Alice, Charlotte and Sophia found other things more absorbing than the cricket.

Jacki, Mike Wilkins and John Wingrove; Mike and John were willing recruits to the UK team.

In her own immediate family Jacki knew challenges and had a share of misfortune that seemed disproportionate, given the way she always smiled on the world. She had bladder cancer and battled against the odds for the last year of her life.

Catherine – Jacki and Tony’s daughter – was home to help out at the end.

Jacki’s warmth and vitality will be sorely missed by all who knew her. May she rest in peace.